


Stepping Back To Home

by Lunarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Homesickness, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 02:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: The first Voltron Coalition Ball is underway, and Allura reflects.





	Stepping Back To Home

**Author's Note:**

> For H/C Bingo. Prompt was "homesickness."

The gala held on Altea were none like anything anyone had ever seen. King Alfor and Queen Fala welcomed all, and from every planet guests had come for the ball. Allura remembered how instantly packed the vast ballroom would become with guests from every corner of the known universe. There were what would become the Paladins of Voltron in a moment of celebration with their partners. She too was asked to dance by many, and she was selective, enjoying the attention and choosing carefully her dance partner, be they Altean, Nalquodians, Rygnirathians, Dalterans, Galra…

The memory dissipated with that final thought, giving way to the dim and grey bedroom. 

“Hard to believe we once danced with them,” Allura said to Coran, gazing out at her reflection. 

“Not all of them had turned against the side of good, Princess. A whole host of them await your presence with the others right this moment!” 

Her smile could not quite mirror his own. 

His words should have comforted her. She had fought alongside the Blade of Marmora not too long ago, but…somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to fully trust them. The memory that had just resurfaced hurt too much. She remembered, once, smiling brightly as a handsome young Galra twirled her, and when she had collected herself, she caught sight of Blaytz dancing with a Galra servant. She had seen that Galra with him many times. She never knew if there was more to their story. Never knew if he, or the man who was dancing with her, had later cried for their blood, or cheered when her father was slaughtered. 

She gripped her sleeves, stopping the shiver. 

“How can you be sure?” Allura turned to Coran, searching his eyes for the answer. “Zarkon turned his entire people against us!” 

Coran’s smile was full of warmth. “Not everyone. Not even back then.” 

“Then why didn’t they—”

“Fear can do many things, Allura, even silence words that speak what’s right.” 

Allura sighed, deflated. “I suppose you’re right.” 

Coran stepped closer and cupped a shoulder. “Try on one of your dresses. The first Voltron Coalition Ball is about to take place and it can’t happen without you, Princess!”

*

The ball was, for all intents, a means for solidifying relations with all of the peoples they needed to help them in the fight against the Galra Empire. Balmerans, Taujeerians, Puigians, Arusians, and others they had gathered for the Voltron Coalition were present. That included members of the Blade of Marmora, looking decidedly out of place in their dour black attire. They had not changed out of their battle garb, having earlier explained to Coran and her that they needed to do so lest they had found themselves under attack.

The gesture was thoughtful, if it did make them stick out like a sore thumb. For many reasons. Allura tried not to give them much attention as the ball progressed. She tried paying attention to her fellow Paladins, _her family_ , but it was soon hurting her as well. Keith wasn’t around. How could he attend when Shiro wasn’t with them? He was probably out searching through the debris of their last battle _yet again_ , trying to find some clue on the whereabouts or status of their former Black Paladin. The other three Paladins were mostly trying to move on, but the image didn’t seem complete: three humans mingling in the sea of ambassadors and attendants from around the galaxy. It should have been the five. Her five-membered family. 

The ache in her heart grew worse. She had hoped the ball would lessen it, bring a smidgen of the old memories back, of her old home back, but the Galra present were nothing like the Galra of back then. Though cognitively she knew she could trust them, their faces wore such somber and grim expressions that she wondered what tragedies, what deaths beyond Ulaz, Thace, and Antok they had suffered before this evening. 

And her newfound family was already fracturing. 

“Princess Allura, if I may take this dance?” 

Allura turned towards the speaker. She was surprised to find Kolivan, not having suspected him to be the one to step forward for a dance. Though still in his battle garb, his posture was formal as he offered his hand in invitation. His expression though impassive, didn’t hold any hostility.

 _Neither is it like that jovial Galra who once fought others for a chance to dance with me_ , a grim thought spoke in the back of her mind. 

_He lost a friend in that battle_ , Allura reminded that bitter voice. They had both seen Antok fall in battle. Suddenly feeling guilty for her earlier words to Coran, she took Kolivan’s hand. 

“I’m afraid I may not be the most ideal dance partner at the moment,” Allura said. “A lot is weighing on my mind.” 

“That would make two of us,” Kolivan said as they walked together, hand in hand, to the dance floor. But that gives us no reason not to take the opportunity to clear our minds.” 

He didn’t smile when he said those words, and she wondered if he had meant to reproach her or impart some wisdom. 

“Shouldn’t you be watching the gates?” Allura asked, hoping that bit of teasing might lighten the mood. 

Kolivan’s response was to give a nod towards the line of Blades stationed around the vicinity. “We are all keeping vigilant, Princess Allura. It was Xortek’s idea that I should take some time off to…frolic.” 

“Ah. Good.” Allura nodded, not sure which one of them was Xortek. 

The song shifted into a happier piece, and with another jolt she felt as though she was transported back. Soon her dance partner would pull on her arm and they would let loose on the dance floor, keeping up appearances be damned. 

“You seem in pain, Princess,” Kolivan commented. “Have I stepped on your toes?” 

“No,” Allura said, struggling to give him a smile in assurance. “It’s just…tonight makes me think of all the galas held during my father’s time.” 

“You remember much of your home?” 

Allura nodded. “It was beautiful.” And the words poured out, unstoppable. She described in detail how the lights glimmered in the halls, the guests from Altea’s allies, the sorts of fashions and the dances and the silly things her peers and her held close to their hearts, the music and Coran teaching them all of the fashionable dance moves. She talked about the friends she had lost, how they used to run through the halls and get into mischief, or race to the very top of the castle and watch the stars and Altea’s triple moons. 

“And Rossan used to stuff desserts from the buffet table into her pocket and pass it around while we sat out on the deck highest up,” Allura said, giggling and smiling sadly. 

At some point Kolivan’s face softened. “That must have been nice. My only memories of my home world lies in stories.” 

The realization hit her in the stomach, and her cheeks burned from the sudden embarrassment. 

Allura hung her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“Because…my father…” 

“I am not seeking that,” Kolivan said. “My childhood was decent. My parents were caring, wise, and patient. They raised me well. Yet I as all Galra still long for a home they do not remember, that only exists in stories passed from generations, that we are only able to return to in our dreams. We do not fault you, Princess Allura, nor do we fault your father for choosing what he thought was best for everyone.” 

Allura nodded. 

The song had changed again, and Kolivan took a step back. He gave her a bow. 

“It was a pleasure, Princess.” 

“Wait…” Allura held out her hand. “If you will not mind: another dance?” 

She studied his eyes, her breath held until he made his move. 

This gala was nothing like her father’s. This gala carried a different purpose, and the Galra who took her hand and danced with her throughout the night was nothing like the young Galra of back then. There was less laughter, less frivolity; yet when they at last parted, the smile shared carried an unspoken understanding her younger self would have never fathomed. 

It wasn’t like home. No dance would carry steps back to home. But this, Allura decided, certainly was the first step towards a somewhere.


End file.
